Passing reference this time, as I do.


She gave the man one last intense stare, her eyes spelling promise in volumes. She shifted in front of his lustful eyes, lifting a hand to the buttons of his shirts while his gaze swept from her head to her toes once more. Appreciative, wanting, leaking desire.

Then he crumpled to the floor.

"Stupid waste of time," two voices said, neither of them hers.

Sarah glanced to her left, identifying Chuck as one of the speakers – his eyes locked on the man on the floor in evident disgust, and his clenched fist marking him as the one who'd knocked out the mark. Casey strode to her other side, staring down at the man on the floor with a similarly disgusted expression. Sarah frowned at the fact that the two of them, rarely having gotten along in the past, had just spoken in chorus. That was followed by a brief moment of wonder at the fact that they'd both gotten into the hotel room without her realising it.

Then she flared up.

"Weren't we supposed to be getting information from him? How do you intend us to do that if he's been knocked out?" she asked irately, aiming the question at Chuck. He barely spared her a glance before pursing his lips and moving to pull the man on the hotel room floor over to the bed. Of course, a small part of her was remarkably satisfied with the idea of Chuck's jealousy.

"Oh, don't get your panties in a twist, Walker," Casey said snidely from her other side. "Why is it that every time you're interrupted before 'getting to know' your mark, you always assume Bartowski's jealous? We stole all his intel when you went to the bathroom half an hour ago. Didn't even tell us anything we didn't already really know. We were saving you from the disgrace of bedding a complete loser."

"What the hell books have you been reading in your spare time, Casey? 'Disgrace of bedding'? Really? The 'complete loser' jibe was totally you, but seriously…" Chuck muttered dryly, working quickly to mess up the bed sheets before dragging off all but the unconscious man's undershirt and boxers, and dumping him unceremoniously on the bed. Afterwards, he shook his hand, looking sickened, and burned his stony gaze into the knocked out man's motionless body.

"Shut up, Bartowski," Casey grumbled darkly. Chuck merely shook his hands again.

"Can I wash my hands before the sleazebag infects me, please?" he asked slowly, and Casey rolled his eyes slightly, gesturing towards the bathroom. Chuck disappeared into it, and a moment later the two agents heard the sound of running water in the bathroom sink. "It's like cooties all over again," they heard him mutter sarcastically, and Casey laughed to himself.

"Like hell you got the information half an hour ago," Sarah muttered grudgingly, pulling the shoulder strap of her dress back into place. "Chuck just faked another flash for some stupid reason."

"Thanks for your high opinions," came the dull voice from the bathroom doorway behind her, and she turned to see him drying his hands on his black vest. It was a classy bartender uniform for him and Casey this evening.

"Stop being such a hard ass, Walker," Casey said, his tone similar to Chuck's, and coming from him the comment felt a lot like a slap in the face. "For your information, we'd been spiking the guy's drinks with pentothal since he first ordered. All I had to do was drop a casual comment in passing on drug lords, and he spilled everything in minutes. Similarly, he was so drunk by then he didn't even realise he was saying it. Only reason we didn't pull you out earlier is because that place was really quite crowded, and it'd be suspicious if you made such a scene."

"And it's not at all suspicious that I came up to his hotel room with one man, and came back down ten minutes later with two others," she retorted. Casey grunted.

"That's why you're going home, and we're both going to go back and finish our fake shifts at the bar," he replied slowly, spelling it out for her.

"After I wash my hands a couple more hundred times," Chuck put in, glancing at the bathroom door again. "Dead bodies, people covered in blood, dying enemy agents – I can deal with them. Touching unconscious sleazy men just feels disgusting."

"You go do that," Casey told him with a sneer. "Just don't wash your hands off entirely. It'll freak out that girl downstairs."

Chuck nodded, cracking a momentary grin and disappearing back into the bathroom, starting the tap again.

"Girl downstairs?" Sarah asked stiffly. Casey let out a sadistic grin.

"That's why he's so moody about coming up here, I think," he replied. "He was chatting up this pretty brunette. She looked interested. Very interested."

He gave her a cruel smile, and for a second she had a brief moment of clarity – that evil man was baiting her. He knew that the burning feeling she got whenever Chuck had another woman show interest in him was twisting down her spine right then. She felt the abrupt need to hit someone already. And Casey knew.

Sarah's eyes narrowed at him, just in time to hear Chuck coming out of the bathroom behind her once again.

"Feeling clean again," he announced briefly. "Perfect end to an evening, I think. Always comes in threes. I KO'ed a guy, Hannah owes me a drink before this 'shift' ends, and I look forward to her answering the prize interest test question."

Unfortunately, Casey appeared to be baiting her with the truth.

"Kill me now," Casey drawled, leading the way to the door. Chuck grinned, stepping through before him while Sarah brought up the rear.

"You already turned my microphone off, Casey," he reminded with a smile. "So you won't have to hear her opinion on sandwiches. Plus, we'll be off in a half hour anyway."

Sarah watched Casey's lip curl up in distaste at the comment, and then the two men turned off to the staircase when she pressed the button on the elevator. She felt slightly stung when the both of them disappeared into the stairwell without a single word of farewell to her – Casey to finish his bartending shift, and Chuck to slack off and flirt with some random girl. She couldn't help but scowl at how easily the weight of jealousy had switched between them.

As if to add insult to injury, five minutes later, as she exited the hotel and headed for her Porsche, her earwig crackled to life.

"So, Hannah, what's your answer? Best sandwich to take on a deserted island?"

"…Roast beef. Definitely roast beef."

"And that's definitely on the list of positive votes for you."

Damn Casey to hell.


R&R?